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thelovefieldproject · 6 years

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Good(will) Hunting

Last weekend, I dropped some items off at Goodwill. I don’t bring this up to self congratulate, “Oh, look at me, I give to the less fortunate! Give me a Nobel!” No. I mention this because it was not a good experience.

Since I’ve lived in my tiny flat, I’ve taken a somewhat less is more approach towards clutter, to things. I admire those who choose to live a minimalist life. I’m not insane enough to think that I can live with merely a single book, a chair, a bed, a bowl, fork, ... you get the idea. Still, I admire the impetus of only holding on to things that are regularly used, and that hold sentimental value. Excluding books, because I’ll ALWAYS have too many books! With this in mind, I decluttered - mostly old clothing and bedding; loaded these items in a box, and shoved them in my trunk.

Only, the box of said items had taken up residence in the boot for several months. As life got in the way, motivation went the way of the Dodo bird. So, when it (finally) came time to bid these items adieu, the box completely fell apart, spilling the contents, including lingerie given to me by a previous, lasciviously intentioned boyfriend (unworn, of course!) Not at all embarrassing, right? Right.

To compound the issue, the clerk that took the items was just a dickhead. He was irritated that the box fell apart, and simply gave the impression of being inconvenienced that I deign to invade his space thereby asking him to do his job.

His rebuff automatically left me on the defensive, also not forgetting my previous mortification of my unmentionables being scattered on the sidewalk like forget me nots. Naturally, I handled this as maturely as possible, by passive aggressively muttering unintelligible curses under my breath. Except, fellow may have heard me call him a dickhead at the end, because he snidely called, “Have a great day, ma’am!”

Also, I intensely dislike being called “ma’am.” Which maybe he knew? I can’t be sure.

I only relate this story because while I was so busy being pissed off and angry at this man’s attitude towards me, and an unfortunate kamikaze cardboard box that I completely forgot that I was trying to do a little good.

Helping others brings me great joy, even if it is through donation of goods which will later be sold for pennies. I believe in the process, although Goodwill Industries isn’t the most highly regarded ‘charity’ because of how they distribute their fiscal gains.

Regardless, I find comfort in knowing that maybe by donating goods, I am helping someone else. It’s a Pollyanna mentality, I’m sure, but being able to give, to share, even a little bit of my meager existence should be a positive moment. Giving should create community. As Robert Ingersoll said, “We rise by lifting others.” Sharing, giving, donating - be it time, goods, services, I can’t think of a better way to lift others.

But, no. As I continued my day, indignation burned in my chest. I was so caught up that I let an annoying five minutes ruin my day. That isn’t me living my best life. That isn’t me finding comfort in helping. That isn’t me being a part of my community. That isn’t... it’s wholly counterintuitive to everything.

As the realization hit, I wondered how much of my time do I spend feeling slighted by an unfortunate few moments of my day? How long do I milk that for? How often do I allow these unsavory encounters to affect my countenance? To engender my relationships with friends, family, and loved ones? How often do these people skirt around me so they won’t have to listen to another story of angry, slighted Amanda? Side Note: is THIS the real reason why I am single? After all, energies attract, right?

I know, we all have a story, we all have bad things that happen to us, things we cannot control. So, do we spend so much time allowing the bad shit to interfere with living our best lives? I endeavor to live with intention, to manifest creativity, and to live a balanced, fulfilled life that radiates kindness, positivity, and love. None of that can be accomplished until I stop the cycle of angry.

What a helluva wonderful learning experience. | A

#goodwill #positivity #donation #intent #giving #livingwithintention #blog #mylife #truestory

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cupcakeshakesnake · 7 years

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Watching SWR for the first time: Zero Hour

Reacting to Zero Hours, part 1 and 2.

Spoilers

----------

Part 1

-Oh boy.

-Ohhh boy.

-I haven’t even been able to check my dashboard in fear of spoilers.

-The finale.

-Oh my god.

-Let’s do this.

Reminds me of the opening scene from one of the Season 1 episodes.

-Only, instead of Tarkin, it’s Thrawn this time.

-Good to see Kallus is still alive.

-Aww, there are tiny trapdoors for the tiny droids.

-Double Agent Droid.

-Eyyyy it’s Tarkin.

-Kallus, don’t you think listening to your droid-overheard material in such a loud volume will attract attention? At least use some earphones? Do they even have earphones in this universe?

-“If we are to crush the rebellion, we must have our lousy subordinates take live prisoners and greatly increase their chances of living to fight another day.”

-Yeah Ezra, time for Kanan to slap some self-confidence into you.

-Dodonna... DODONNA

-OHHH THAT GUY

-”At last. general Doodano’s fleet has arrived.”

-Wait... the place Kallus is in...

-IT’S EZRA’S OLD ROOM HOLY FUCK

-Also, please keep your doors shut. They always forget to do that.

It was at this moment that Kallus knew he fucked up.

-DAYUM THRAWN

-HELLUVA ENTRANCE, EVEN WHEN SILENT

-DAYUM THEM MARTIAL ARTS SKILLS

-KALLUS IS SCREWED, I CALLED IT

-WE ALL CALLED IT

-HOLY SHIIIIIIIET

-Other ISB agents?

-No, just stormtroopers with dark armor. Or maybe just normal stormtroopers and it’s the trick of the lighting.

NOOOO WHAT DID THEY DO TO MUTTON SHOPS

-Also, Disney portrayal of blood (somewhat-ish anyway).

-On a side note, his hair is longer than I thought. Maybe I was stupid for thinking that his hair was just cut short instead of brushed back with actual length.

-Damn that’s some pretty good research done by Thrawn. Although, I’m slightly disappointed that he didn’t just pull out a backup map and compare the two.

-Okay I feel really confused here because I want the Empire to wreck the Rebels’ shit but I also feel sorry for Kallus.

-Dammit Sato, I sense a death flag.

-I mean, I don’t have very good senses of death flags but...

-DAMN THAT HYBERSPACE BLOCK

-Yeah Constantine, do something useful for a change.

LIKE A BOSS

hello i am thrawn and im gonna kick ur rebel scum asses

that smirk be like “ahahahaha fuck you”

Ezra: “nonononono this is not happening this is a nightmare i don’t want to do this i don’t want my friends to die this is horrifying” Kanan: “k”

-Hey, Rex is back.

-Kanan: “I’m a persuasive guy.” Oh really. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1CnEN1d-9P4&t=2m37s I beg to differ. VERY CONVINCING, NORMAL HUMAN BEING

-Woohoo, large-scale space battle! Finally!

-Bendu: “I told you I don’t take sides.” “I’m taking none of your shit.” “Take this jellybaby and go away.”

-Dammit Constantine or Konstantine, whatever it was.You’re gonna ruin everything.

-He’s like that one guy in an MMORPG who tries to land an impossible kill and destroys his entire team.

-Thrawn: “dammit konstantine, don’t you dare

-(I’m too lazy to look up if his name starts with a C or a K)

-Constantine: “You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my real dad!”

-Annnnnd Sato basically does the Kamikaze. Sorry if I triggered anyone, I know it’s a sensitive subject of past wars, but it was the first thing that jumped to my mind...

Well, I’d say he’s still looking pretty smug there.

-”I will not fight your petty battles.” “Time Lords, sworn to never interfere, only to watch...”

-Damn, he’s cooking up some Force-TimeVortex-storm there.

-So apparently Sabine is coming back for the finale.

Part 2

-Why aren’t they just bombing the planet already

-”This is really Sabine’s baby” what.

-Whoa, nice.

-So why is Thrawn “planning” orbital bombardment? Why isn’t he doing it?

-Alrighty then. I believe in you, Thrawn.

-DAMN.

wow.

Even fireworks are intimidating to some people. Imagine this.

-Imagine you’ve only got one transparent shield to rely on to for protection from green laser hell raining down upon you.

A E S T H E T I C S

-Wow, the Rebels are so gonna d- Thrawn: “They’ve had enough. Cease fire.” Disney, don’t you think you’re taking your main character shields a little too far?

Her face of relief when she realizes Kanan is alive.

-”Oh, all that is only funny because you’re still alive. Now please, come home, love.” SHE SAID LOVE

-SHE SAID LOVE

The background looks like a painting.

-”You and I are not the same, Kallus, as these rebels ara about to learn.” Hope that’s true, Thrawn. Hope that’s true.

-What is it with Interdictors? They’re smaller than Stardestroyers...

-I just looked it up and oh. Oh. It has Gravity Wells, which means it can stop ships from Hyperspace jumping.

-The start of this battle feels like triggering traps with small troopers in Star Wars Commander.

-ATATS

-WHERE YOU ATAT

-sorry

-”Air groups, clear the sky of that... Annoyance.” Thrawn be like bitch

Badass Kanan is badass

-”Looks like the family’s together again.” Space family confirmed.

-Bendu up in the sky like

(Yes, it’s from Doctor Who)

How are they running up there anyway? Does the artificial gravity of the ship extend beyond its shell?

-Why can’t they just use TIE fighters to bomb the jetpack people assuming that they have their shield activated?

Thrawn: Well shit, this wasn’t in my plans.

“Iiiiii might’ve made him angry.”

-p e r s u a s i v e

-”CONCENTRATE FIRE ON THE CENTER OF THE STORM” Well, that’s the first time we heard Thrawn yell, though given the situation, no one would’ve heard him otherwise.

What

-That actually worked?? For once?

I believe I can fly...

-R.I.P. Interdictor.

Mutton Chops is up to something.

-”That’s the first good news I’ve gotten today.” What about Kanan surviving? Or did you somehow go through midnight?

Knew it.

-YES

-They saved the little mutton chop

-...He can take down stormtroopers single handedly and we’re calling him ‘little mutton chops’.

Welcome to the Rebellion, Kallus.

User BENDU has used TELEPORT. Chat//Thrawn: u cheating hacker!!

Yay he lives!!

-AAAAAHASDG

-1. GREAT SEASON FINALE

-2. I’M FINALLY DONE AND NOW I CAN SCROLL THROUGH MY DASHBOARD

-THREE DAYS’ WORTH OF DASHBOARD NOTIFICATIONS

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zeruch · 5 years

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Post wedding celebration calls for...shots apparently. As far as I could tell it was a blue Curaçao laced kamikaze. Anjae did a helluva great job. #zeruchontour https://ift.tt/2BZLZwu

#IFTTT #Instagram

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big-pappas-world · 5 years

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The Origin Story

It reminded me of one of the fireworks that were around when I was a kid.

The kind you would nail to the telephone pole.Light it on fire and it would spin, giving off colorful sparks, or maybe not. About half the time it would get hung up, stop spinning and threaten to start the creosote soaked pole on fire.

This time it just happened to be a lit cigarette that some asshole threw out their car window and now it was headed straight for me.

I’m going about 70 mph, on I-5, in the left lane, on a sunny summer afternoon, with my future Bride and camping gear. We are heading out on day 1 of our first road trip together.

I watched helplessly as the cigarette butt tumbled thru the air, and with some fluke of aerodynamics went straight down my shirt.

I’ve been stung by yellow jackets before while riding and that is painful enough, but the burning embers of a cigarette inside your clothing, stuck to your bare skin is next level.

Somehow I managed to cross all four lanes and take the immediate exit, skidding to a stop while simultaneously hitting the Kill switch and kickstand. I hopped off the bike and stripped of my clothes. Remember that my future Bride is on the back of the bike and has absolutely no idea what the hell is going on until she sees the cigarette butt still stuck to my belly. I don’t know how she kept a straight face. It must have been a helluva sight.

The rest of the trip was just flat out fun. Some misty rain on the Oregon coast caused us to get a room for a night or two but in those days we were “tent campers”, and my burn healed up in no time.

Then there is the Origin Story for TMF CLUB

Back in the early 80′s we were just a bunch of hooligans with new Motorcycles. We adopted the phrase “Of all the things I’ve ever done, I’ve never had TOO MUCH FUN!” and we said it often.

There was a local Suzuki dealer that we all got to know, who would make it very easy for gainfully employed 20 somethings to get financing for new bikes. I sold my 1975 GT380 and bought a 1980 GS550 that I was riding in the story above. Then I traded that in for a 1983 GS750E. At the same time, a friend bought a 1983 GS750ES, and a plan was formed.

We were going to Laguna Seca!

It just so happened that Motorcycle Racing Legend “King” Kenny Roberts was retiring and it would be his last race.

I can confidently say, that in retrospect, this was a TERRIBLE plan.

I had a six month old daughter at home, but hey, I had a credit card. So off we went.

The plan was to take 3 days to get there, camping along the way. We only got pulled over once, by the Oregon State Patrol, who was actually going the other direction at first but somehow decided we were worth pulling over.

When we arrived at the racetrack we were some of the first people there. We grabbed a prime camping spot at the bottom of “The Corkscrew”, one of the most iconic series of turns in motorsports. We set up our little 2 man tent and settled in. Our lack of preparation was astonishing.

The next morning we woke up to find ourselves surrounded by two large motorhomes and their occupants. On the right we had Don and Dawn and on the left, John and Jane. Both Don and John were Snap-on Tool dealers and motorcycle fanatics. Don had the battle scars from an accident that nearly took his leg during the Barstow to Vegas race as proof.

It turned out that we were in the spot they came to every year, and while they could have been dicks about it, they took pity on us instead. They shared their food, booze and friendship with us.

At some point during an afternoon of Kamikazes, Don said the magic words, TOO MUCH FUN. It turned out that they were seasoned veterans in the pursuit of TMF and they called themselves the TOO MUCH FUN Club. We had another pair of friends that drove from Seattle (pussies) and joined the party for the weekend. We ate , drank ,watched races, hung out in the pits, and all of us Seattle boys and our pasty white skin got some epic sunburns.

By Sunday the races were over and we had all packed up to start the second half of our trip, but this would be completely different from the ride down. We rode to Stockton and got a room at the motel 6 for much needed showers and real beds.My forehead and tops of my ears were so burned that even the water in the shower was painful but, after a week on the road, worth it. Finding ourselves in dire need of cold brewskies, we decided to walk down the street and across the highway to a little market we could see from the room.

There were a couple guys sitting outside the store and they stood up as we crossed the street and stared at us as we went inside. That is when I noticed the bars on the windows and door. I grabbed a six pack and headed towards the front where an older gentleman was standing in a raised cage. As I put the beer on the counter he said “You boys ain’t from around here, are ya?”, No Sir. We are staying the night at the Motel 6, heading home tomorrow. “Well you be careful crossing the Highway”

I didn’t really think anything about it until we walked out the door. The two guys had now become six, and when we turned to walk down to the corner and cross the highway they followed. I heard someone say “Hey Boy, where you goin?” and saw a couple other guys round the corner in front of us, heading our way. We were very quickly going to be boxed in and it was not gonna be good for us. So with the words of the man at the store suddenly clear in their meaning, I looked at my buddy and we dashed across the highway thru the traffic. When we got to the other side I looked back to see eight pissed off guys shouting.

We left Stockton early the next morning and made the decision to ride straight thru to Seattle, stopping only for food and gas. At the first gas stop I realized that my ears were stuck to the inside of my helmet and it was extremely painful to take it off. I only took it off one more time on the entire ride home, at a diner near the Oregon /Washington border. We got home near midnight after 15 hrs and 800 miles.

Within a week or two we had shirts made up, and began to hold weekly “meetings” at a Bar that was owned by another member.

That was 34 years ago. I still haven’t had TOO MUCH FUN!

#tmfclub #lagunaseca #kingkenny #kennyroberts #roadtrip #suzuki

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celticnoise · 6 years

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Now we come to the last season from the 90’s and the final term before the trophy-laden years of Martin O’Neill and his successors.

In other words, the end of the ‘Dark Days’ has almost come.

But as always seems to be the case with any thrilling narrative before things get better they tend to get a helluva lot worse.

This final season of one of the worst decades in the clubs history wasn’t just dark it was decidedly shambolic and ultimately farcical.

So let’s get to it.

John Barnes was appointed as ‘head coach’ of Celtic on June 10th 1999.

Along with him came club legend Kenny Dalglish as Director of Football.

Such a role was expected to go to departing manager Dr Jozef Venglos but that never materialised.

At the time it was seen as ‘The Dream Team’.

The young managerial prodigy in Barnes and the experienced master overseeing everything in Dalglish.

It was fresh and exciting.

Barnes was the first ever black manager to be appointed in the history of the Scottish top flight and one of only a handful in the history of British football.

Barnes had been a wonderful player.

An entertainer with incredible skills he had plied most of his career trade at Liverpool where he had spent ten seasons winning two League Championships, an FA Cup and a League Cup and scoring a pretty incredible 106 goals from the left wing in the process.

He had also earned 79 caps for England.

Management wise this was his first gig which inevitably was of some concern considering Rangers were in the ascendancy and the fact that the last time such an approach had been attempted it had ultimately failed under the only other rookie manager in the club’s history at that time, Liam Brady. There had been record-breaking spending and some nice football under Brady but the trophy cabinet had only gathered dust and we finished no higher than third in the league.

That ‘record-spending’ afforded to such an inexperienced boss ultimately precipitated near financial catastrophe at the club as the old board threw the dice and lost.

But this was different, Dalglish was there too.

His managerial credentials could compete with anybody.

As player/manager and then just manager of Liverpool he had won three League titles, as well as two FA Cups, followed by also winning the English second tier play-offs with Blackburn Rovers who he then ultimately led to an incredible Premiership title in 1994/1995.

Kenny had of course been a genuine legend as a player with the club, having turned out in a total of nine seasons after making his debut aged only 17.

Dalglish went on to play 322 times for Celtic scoring a breathtaking 167 goals in the process and lifted nine major honours before his big money departure to Liverpool in 1977.

This exciting double act was also bolstered by promises of a healthy budget that would be made available to them as well.

The guaranteer of this was new Chief Executive Allan MacDonald who had taken over the reigns at the club upon Fergus’s official departure in April of 1999.

MacDonald was a Celtic man through and through who held lofty ambitions for the club.

Having been British Aerospace’s managing director in the Far East his credentials in both the business world and as a man with Celtic’s interests at heart were undoubted. He wanted to change the clubs image with the fans which had become and to a certain extent always was somewhat distant and often tumultuous.

McCann was not a people person. He knew what was right for Celtic and would do what it took to achieve it always looking out for potential long-term financial implications. He saw Murray’s blueprint over at Ibrox and was abhorred by it. This was of course regularly misconstrued by the Murray sycophants in the mainstream media or ‘laptop loyal’ as they became known as a return to the biscuit tin mentality of yesteryear.

While Murray was portrayed as an ambitious captain of industry Fergus was painted out to be a modem day Scrooge who preferred to amass wealth gained from the supporters and was somehow adverse to investing it.

This was all, of course, complete nonsense as the passage of time has told us.

Fergus knew the financial limitations of playing in Scotland and until an alternative competition offered itself up then he demanded Celtic live within their means and did not jeopardise themselves as they had done before under his predecessors in the boardroom.

Allan MacDonald’s worldview to the economics of football was different.

Being primarily a fan who held several season tickets at Celtic Park his primary concern was our success on the park. And with Rangers having spent the guts of £40 million in the previous year and swept all before them domestically he was determined that the club would respond. By that of course I mean he was prepared to get the chequebook out. Fergus-like concerns over the pesky balance sheet could be addressed at a later date.

As his first order of business, he had already got Henrik Larsson singed up on a new contract making him the club’s highest ever paid player with then mammoth wages of £23,000 a week.

He’d also performed the rather brazen move of appointing a psychologist to analyse Hugh Dallas’s performance in the previous season’s disastrous title decider at Celtic Park.

Then had come the Barnes / Dalglish appointment.

But it was the signing of 27-year-old Israeli internationalist Berkovic from West Ham Utd in particular that made a real statement of intent as it cost £5.75 million breaking both Celtic’s and indeed Scottish football’s record transfer fee in the process.

He also sanctioned the new management teams signings of defender Olivier Tebily, Bulgarian midfielder Stilian Petrov, veteran Russian keeper Dmitri Kharine, Dutch winger Bobby Petta and the unforgettable French striker Stephane Bonnes who rumour has it can still be found training at Barrowfield, patiently waiting for his chance.

Heading out the door was the pairing of Simon Donnelly and Phil O’Donnell who both joined Sheffield Wednesday and during the course of the season, Craig Burley departed for a pretty hefty £3 million fee to Derby County.

It’s difficult to believe now but back then Burley was well liked by the Celtic support due to his efforts during the 1997/98 title-winning season with his many significant goals proving vital. Many were sad to see him go.

He has of course since taken a flamethrower to such sentiments due to his apathetic recollections of his time with the club as well as regularly dispersing inflammatory sound bites which indicate that his knowledge of the Scottish game could be written on the back of a matchbox.

So to the football itself then and Barnes clearly was determined to do things his way.

To underline this he deployed the rather unusual 4-2-2-2 formation apparently favoured by several South American sides. It was clear the idea was to outscore the opposition and with players like Larsson, Lubo Moravcik, Mark Viduka and now Berkovik at the club that was a somewhat understandable if not also completely naive approach. I seem to remember Ossie Ardiles deploying a similar approach down at Spurs in the mid 90’s with Sheringham, Anderton, Barmby, Klinsmann and Ilie Dumitrescu all thrown up front as part of the Argentinian’s five-pronged attack kamikaze football philosophy. It was fun while it lasted, which wasn’t long.

Initially, at least it worked.

On the opening day of the season, Celtic went up to Pittodrie and smashed them 5-0.

Larsson and Viduka both scored a double and emerging young striker Mark Burchill came on to grab a fifth.

The following week we then cuffed St.Johnstone 3-0 at home before going down to Wales midweek and annihilating Cwmbrân Town A.F.C. 6-0 in the away leg of the preliminary round of that season’s Cup Winners Cup. But then came the first road bump.

Celtic went up to Tannadice on the 15th of August and lost 2-1.

It was a disappointing loss and a reality check for most fans but kicked off a nine-game winning run for Barnes which included five games in the league, three in the Cup Winners Cup and a third round League Cup tie. Celtic scored 27 goals in that period and remarkably conceded only one.

Cwmbrân Town had been seen off 4-0 in the home leg for a 10-0 aggregate victory, Ayr United were buried 4-0 at Somerset Park in the League Cup, and the League victories included a 4-0 whipping of Hearts at home, a 2-0 win away at Easter Road against Hibs and then a 7-0 massacre of Aberdeen at Celtic Park. We had also bested Israel’s Hapoel Tel Aviv 3-0 on aggregate in the first round proper of the CWC with 2-0 and 1-0 wins respectively. Larsson scored all three goals in that tie.

It really was all wine and roses but then the next ‘road bump’ came and in fairness, it was more like an earthquake that had the potential to derail any managers season. It was, of course, the season and nearly career-ending injury suffered by the talismanic Henrik Larsson on the 21st of October in the Stade de Gerland, Lyon, France.

I remember going to the Strathclyde University Union that evening with friends to watch the second round clash.

With the run we were on expectations were understandably high amongst myself and my mates of experiencing the first ever significant European adventure to occur in our lifetime. At that point, we had of course never progressed past the second round stage of a European competition since 1980.

We actually played pretty well for ten mins but it all came crashing down in the twelfth when Henrik attempted an uncustomary challenge on Lyon player Serge Blanc and ended up suffering a pretty graphic compound fracture that looked like his leg had been broken like a twig.

Such was the sheer shock at such a horror injury happening to our most prized player that most people entered into a phase of immediate denial with some around me even claiming that it was actually the shin pad that had broken and that was protruding through his sock.

Of course, it wasn’t and Henrik was well and truly crocked.

Mark Burchill came on and actually rounded their keeper before being taken down which rather than result in a penalty and sending off instead incited the referee to book the 19-year-old striker for diving. A mystifying decision.

On the 63rd minute, Serge Blanc then entered the proceedings again and lashed a winner high into the net for the French side.

It really was one of those nights.

Celtic had played excellently, probably the best away European performance in my viewing lifetime but had gotten no luck at all. Indeed quite the opposite. As we departed Vertigo nightclub in the upper floors of the union where the big screen had been showing the game and into the dark Glasgow night outside we all had that sinking feeling. Not only was our European dream looking spent but our season potentially was in tatters.

So it proved to be.

News filtered through in the succeeding days that Henrik was out for the season at least.

Celtic then lost four of their next seven matches as our form in the wake of the Larsson injury completely nosedived.

Of the three matches, we won two of them were 2-1 wins away against St.Johnstone and Hearts. In both instances, goals right at the death were required to gain the three points. The other one we won was a 5-1 home hammering of Kilmarnock. Ian Wright the legendary Arsenal striker who had become a free agent had been drafted in to replace Henrik. He scored on his debut that day but it was a false dawn. Wright was 36 and fooling no one.

The four defeats included home and away losses to Motherwell – 1-0 at home and 3-2 away – as well as a predictable second leg loss to Lyon who beat us 1-0 at Celtic Park for a 2-0 aggregate victory. We also visited Ibrox and after going behind in nineteen mins came storming back to go 2-1 up thanks to two excellent goals from Berkovic who celebrated the second by running towards the Broomloan end doing the then popular ‘Chicken Tonight’ celebration (basically you mimicked a chicken by folding your arms by your side and then flapping them like…….a chicken!) only to then get blown away 4-2 and give further confirmation that without Larsson we looked lost.

It was around this time summer singing Olivier Tebily earned his nickname of ‘Bombscare’.

Tebily had the uncanny knack of creating panic in the ranks when no danger seemed apparent.

Literally out of the most mundane passage of play Tebily could conjure up unrelenting excitement with a slack pass, ill-advised attempt to dribble in front of his own goal or clearance straight into the path of an onrushing opposition player. He really was something else.

Barnes did momentarily turn things around in December.

We won four straight starting with a 1-0 win at Dens Park against Dundee in the League Cup on the 1st, followed by a 4-0 hammering of Hibs, the latest slaughter of Aberdeen (6-0 at Pittodrie) and a 4-1 win at home to Dundee Utd. 15 goals in four matches with only one conceded was a return to the pre-Larsson injury form and had us right back in contention going into the second Old Firm game. Barnes picked up the Manager of the Month award for December and the expectation levels again peaked with Rangers first visit to Paradise that season.

Things got off to a great start as the place erupted when Viduka scored a wonderful strike to make it 1-0 after 18 mins. You got the sense that maybe we had truly turned a corner. This was the result Barnes needed. But then Billy Dodds equalised on 27 minutes and the game played out evenly to a draw.

The winter break then took place.

Celtic went off to Portugal and rumours began to abound of a big split in the camp between Barnes and his signings on one side and the rest of the squad on the other who were somewhat underwhelmed by his incoherent tactics as well as his apparently aloof man management approach.

When they returned they went to Rugby Park where we came away with a decidedly underwhelming 1-1 draw with Kilmarnock as Rangers began to pull away in the title race. That was followed by a home match with Hearts on the 5th of February.

I was at that game. I distinctly remember the rumblings amongst the crowd beforehand.

Barnes was no longer popular and his appointment was now firmly viewed as a disaster. Everyone was waiting for something to happen on the pitch that would instigate his departure. There was almost a sense of ‘hurry up and get Dalglish in’.

Celtic came out and played poorly but somehow found themselves 2-0 up thanks to goals from Lubo and Viduka and were cruising. But then the prematch pessimism proved correct as Celtic capitulated. Colin Cameron scored just after the half-hour mark and then on 55 minutes, Gary Naysmith equalised. At this point, the team was in disarray and defeat looked inevitable. Alan Stubbs obliged such expectations by barging down ex-Celt Darren Jackson in the box and Colin Cameron scored again this time from the resulting penalty on 83 minutes. Boos subsequently rained around the stadium. Eyal Berkovik summed up his own personal commitment to the cause and the general malaise at the club by stating in a post-match interview that Celtic had ‘very little hope’ of being able to now mount a title challenge to Rangers.

Bear in mind there was still 16 games left and 48 points to play for at this stage.

Barnes days looked numbered.

If there were any doubts about his eventual fate then he erased them in style three days later by leading Celtic to arguably the most embarrassing defeat in the clubs history.

This was, of course, the night of the famous, well infamous from our perspective ‘Super Caley Goes Ballistic Celtic are Atrocious’ headline in the Sun newspaper the following day

Second tier Caley Thistle rolled into town on a cold, dark winters Tuesday night under the stewardship of hard drinking manager Stevie ‘Pele’ Patterson and didn’t just put a final nail into the coffin of the ill-fated Barnes reign but rather took a bazooka to the whole thing.

The game had been rescheduled due to issues with the roof after high winds and despite Celtic’s form woes was considered to be a routine third-round Scottish Cup tie.

It proved to be anything but.

Barry Wilson gave Caley a shock lead on 16 minutes. Mark Burchill though replied down at the other end less than a minute later and normal service was expected to resume. Moravcik, however, scored an uncustomary own goal and somehow we found ourselves 2-1 down at halftime. The whistles and boos were deafening amongst the depleted midweek cup game crowd as the players exited the pitch. Little did anyone know that inside the home dressing room chaos was about to ensue.

Celtic assistant Eric Black lambasted the team for a lack of effort.

In particular, he singled out Mark Viduka in order to get a reaction.

He got one alright.

Viduka had to be restrained from attacking him and then threw his boots in the bin refusing to come out for the second half.

Ian Wright later stated that in all of his years in football he had never seen anything like it.

Goalkeeper Jonathan Gould then pointed out the obvious to everyone that Eyal Berkovic had shown no effort at all.

Various other arguments ensued and according to Lubo John Barnes sat there helplessly looking on as a bewildered spectator.

Amazingly Olivier Tebily wasn’t responsible for any of this.

He was away on international duty with the Ivory Coast and had actually been taken hostage along with his teammates.

I kid you not.

Ian Wright gave his input into the proceedings by reacting to it all by bursting into a fit of laughter.

Again another insight into the mentality of some of the players at the club during this period.

Wright was there for a payday and to bathe in some short-lived adulation one last time before finally calling it a day. I wonder if his laughter was a reaction to the events unfolding in front of him or that no one had yet copped onto the fact he was getting paid a fortune every week to do precisely sod all. Either way, Caley came out in the second half and scored a third through Paul Sheerin to seal a 3-1 victory and Barnes got his P45 in the fallout.

Of the game Barnes stated: “It was just an accident waiting to happen.”

I guess that statement pretty much summed up his appointment by the club.

Assistant coaches Eric Black and Terry McDermott followed him out the door.

In the following days, Kenny Dalglish was inevitably announced as the new interim manager.

It was time for King Kenny to clean up his prodigy’s mess.

Surely with his wealth of experience things couldn’t get any worse. Surely?

As luck would have it thanks to press conferences at Bairds Bar and the protracted signing of a Brazilian with an unfortunate name farce was about to be taken to a whole new level.

Paul Cassidy proves once again that he has an iron constitution … how else could he sit through memories like this?

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